Page 14 of Devilry

He looks up to meet the hundred or so pairs of eyes staring at him, his face turning an unmissable shade of red as he scans the room for a spare seat. My annoyance at his tardiness is shelved, and my greed to see him up close pushes its way to the forefront.

Selfishly wanting to know why he wasn’t here, I knowingly use my power as his professor to find out what I need.

“Lost, late, or new?” I call out. His head whips up, and I watch as recognition takes over his features. Stunned, he stares at me, indecision written all over his face. Should he stay or should he go? “Well?” I press.

He clears his throat and speaks louder because of the distance between us. “New.”

I try to appear as nonchalant as possible, to seem unaffected by the presence of a young man who’s unexpectedly occupied my thoughts since he ran into me, and eye fucked me senseless.

“In that case, you might want to come down here and pick up what you missed.”

With a small limp in his gait, he begins to descend the flight of stairs.

He’s still hurt.

Even though I can see he’s injured, I don’t back down on my request. I want him in front of me, knowing who’s in charge, and wanting to know if our run-in was the reason he didn’t show up.

I pray that up close his face is somehow less tempting than I remember and my attraction to him is dampened by our circumstances.

As he takes his last step, I realize it’s impossible.

Last week, shock and annoyance quickly turned into startling intrigue, and my lust filled reaction to him was instant and obvious. As the voice in my head kept reminding me of the perils of being too close to campus, my eyes continued to devour him and the words out of my mouth tried to lure him in.

Full of remorse and undeniably skittish, his behavior after our accident only highlighted the age gap between us. Even disheveled, I saw how innocent and honest he was, and under any other circumstances, I wouldn’t have looked twice.

Young isn’t my thing. Not usually, anyway. But as he stands before me, I realize denying my attraction to him is futile. Rivaling any Hollywood heartthrob, his hair is now brushed back into a perfect quiff, out of his eyes and showcasing every enticing angle of his face.

Fuck.

He’s a freshman, and he’s not just a student at King, he’smystudent. This is the part where I should be turned off.

But I’m not.

As he stands before me, holding my gaze, his face flushed and Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, I’m even harder for him now than I was last week.

Diligently, he waits for my next directive, and fuck if it doesn’t make him that much more alluring. The second his forest green orbs lock with mine, he tips his head to the side and, like a choreographed move, his hair falls over his eyes, hiding his gaze.

Irrationally, I feel rejected, and I fucking hate it. Taking it as my cue to get back to what’s important, I grab the stack of papers and thrust them in his direction.

“Name?” I say a little more curtly than I need to.

“Eli.”

“Eli,” I repeat, hoping he’ll look back up at me. “Here’s what you missed.”

Mumbling an almost inaudible thank you, he unclenches his hands to snatch the outline from me. Twisting his upper body, he looks around, searching for somewhere to sit. Worried about his injury and selfishly wanting him to be close to me, I take the decision out of his hands. “Sit here at the front.” He doesn’t move at my suggestion. “It looks like it might take you longer than we’ve got to get back up those stairs.”

His shoulders deflate at the reminder, and I momentarily hate myself for putting him on show in front of everyone. The whole class watches as he makes his way to the front row. When his body lands on the seat, I shift my glance and gesture to the student from earlier. “Ok, where were we?”

“You asked what today’s lesson would be about,” he pipes up.

“And do you have the answer?” The sarcasm drips off my voice, and just like that I slip back into professor mode, leaving the distracted and turned on man behind.

“Yes. Of course,” the kid supplies. “Today we should be discussing global religions.”

“Excellent.” Focusing on all the attentive eyes aimed my way, I push Eli to the back of my mind and dive right into the lesson.

Listing each major religion, discussing their countries of origin, and their transcendence through time, has the students eating out of the palm of my hand and immersing themselves in all the information I’m giving them. “Ok, now, we’re going to play a quick word association game before we tie this lesson up.”

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